


The Sunne in Splendour

by SketchLockwood, The_Fantasy_Novelist



Category: The Sunne in Splendour, The White Queen - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4755056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/pseuds/SketchLockwood, https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fantasy_Novelist/pseuds/The_Fantasy_Novelist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fragments from the childhood of Elizabeth of York (Bess) with her parents, King Edward IV and Queen Elizabeth Woodville and siblings; Mary, Cecily and Edward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mother and daughter

Dismissing her ladies-in-waiting, Bess was alone with Queen Elizabeth. The bedchamber seemed eerily quiet compared to how they were always run by some lady fetching the Queen’s hot water or replacing the logs in the fireplace. Yet there was an ethereal atmosphere as mother and daughter sat by Queen’s Elizabeth’s grand dressing-table.  
‘One day when you are a woman I will teach you the arts of beauty and attraction as my mother taught me’, Queen Elizabeth promised.  
On the dressing table laid her mother’s cosmetics, her perfumes and creams which Bess had always observed being applied to her mother by the ladies-in-waiting and she was of the age where she was keen and curious to try some.  
With a perfectly jewelled hand, Elizabeth Woodville brushed some powder onto her cheeks and lathered some cream from a tiny bottle onto her neck.  
Bess was captivated.  
‘When can I use some, Mama?’ she asked hopefully.  
‘Her mother smiled her perfect smile. ‘Such beauty as yours doesn't need cosmetics, but soon, my dear, when you flower and your breasts begin to bud’.  
‘Like yours?’ she asked. The truth was that Bess couldn't wait to have breasts, she had seen her mother breast-feeding her younger brother Edward and had seen the wet nurses with a baby Cecily.  
‘All the women’s mysteries I shall teach you as you are my eldest daughter’, her mother promised with a gentle touch of her hair. She had on more than one occasion heard the myth that her mother, through Grandmother Jacquetta were descended from the goddess, Melusina, a mermaid, half human and half fish.  
She watched as her mother carefully lined her green jewelled eyes with kohl to bring out the colour. Unlike Elizabeth’s, Bess’ eyes were the colour of Edward’s, a vivid blue.  
‘A touch of powder and a bit of rouge but not too much, for only a low woman would apply it too heavily to give the effect of a complete transformation'. Now that her mother pointed it out, she had seen some of the harlots, as they call them, so brightly dressed.  
‘A noblewoman is far more reserved and conservative with her makeup, used to enhance not not transform the face’, Queen Elizabeth added.  
‘Mama, what is a enchantress?” Bess asked innocently.  
‘Where did you hear that, my dear, not in one of your storybooks I hope?’ Elizabeth replied smoothly but inside she suspected that Bess had overheard one of the maids of ladies who were keen on spreading the tale that she had bewitched Edward in their first meeting.  
‘Papa calls you that,’ Bess replied. Elizabeth’s fears were evaporated and she flashed Bess a dazzling smile in the mirror.  
‘What am I missing?’  
Bess racked her mind, the cream and perfume had already been applied but her mother answered before she could even reply,  
‘A smile and open arms for your husband. No man, after the work of a day at council or in battle, whether he be a serf, farmer of statesman, wants to be greeted with a nagging, complaining wife’, her mother wisely instructed.  
‘Nor does he want anyone to scold him on the need for religious piety for that is the job of the priest whilst philosophy can be discussed with men. If he is to come to your chamber, then he wants something only you can provide’.  
Bess was astonished, there was so much to learn about the art of being a woman and there was no one better than her lady mother to instruct her.  
Elizabeth continued, ‘Always greet your man with honeyed tones, sweet and loving words’.  
Bess was too smart to point out that on more than one occasion she had heard her mother quarrelling with father but that was a rare occurrence for her mother was tender and affectionate for most of the time. Even when she was angry or with a temper, she was even still beautiful with a disheveled look that made her seem more vulnerable.  
As if on cue, her father marched through the bedchamber, not bothering to knock, expecting only to find his wife in the bed. When Edward saw mother and daughter sitting by the dressing table, he exclaimed,  
‘What are my two witches up to?’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New story added. This occurs at roughly the same time as the first chapter.

When they were young princesses, Elizabeth remembered running down the hallway to her parent’s bedchamber in the early morning along with Mary and Cecily where her father slept shirtless and her mother in a silk sleeping gown, her long silver hair loose and unbraided. The three princesses would climb up in the King and Queen’s huge featherbed, her father helping lift Cecily up of course since the bed was so tall. Father always had morning alertness whilst her mother would be stirring with morning drowsiness but eventually conceded from her peaceful slumber with a kiss from her father and the high-pitched shrieks of her younger sisters. The royal family would play hiding under the sheets, the princesses pretending that they were moles digging into the soil whilst the King and Queen caught them. Once, when she had abruptly ran into her parent’s bedchamber, her father pretended to sleep but when she scrambled on top of him, he caught her to him with a delightful shriek from Bess. But once she stormed in when her parents least desired it and seen them in a passionate embrace, one that frightened her for she had never seen the King and Queen or any other man or woman in such a position before. They were certainly not asleep for it was too unnatural a position! She remembered how her father had been on top whilst her mother had had her mouth open and low soft sounds coming were coming from it as she pulled her father’s head to her hair-covered breasts. She had an expression on her perfect face that she had never seen on her mother before who had always looked dignified and composed. When Queen Elizabeth had opened her eyes and saw Bess standing by the door in wide-eyed shock, she gave a small shriek to which her father rolled off from their missionary position and hastily draped his dressing gown over him after giving chase to Elizabeth of York who had made a dash down the hallway in fear of the what she had seen and did not understand. As a man who understood the idiosyncrasies of human nature, he was wise enough to know that although the act of procreation was pleasurable to him, for a child as young as Bess, it might seem disgusting and even shameful. He was also wise enough to comprehend that how he responded to this might shape how his daughter felt about intimacy and lovemaking as she matured. Edward had explored sexuality as an adolescent and he didn’t want to rob his precious daughter of the same experience. He knew that some children never fully recovered… his brother Richard was one of them. His little princesses had been raised in an environment where physical contact between their parents was common; a kiss on the lips, a passionate embrace and naturally as children they demonstrated this charm and affection; climbing onto a uncle or aunt’s lap, a kiss on the cheek by one of the royal princesses charmed every English mayor. With his long legs and figure built as a soldier for battle, it did not take long for him to catch up to Bess to which he then scooped her up into his arms then carried her back into the bedchamber where she had just moments ago witnessed the scene. Back in the chamber, Elizabeth was grateful for her young husband’s fast reaction. By now, her mother was already dressed in a white see-through dressing gown and had exclaimed ‘Oh there is my darling princess!’ in her melodic silvery voice as if her father was a page boy who had been commanded to bring Bess, as if she hadn't just interrupted them. King Edward then deposited Princess Bess on the bed between his wife and him.  
After covering her with a generous amount of kisses her father gently asked,  
‘Do you want to talk about what you just saw?’  
She loved how he always treated her like she was an adult and not a child and had always confided in his policies; taking the time to explain to her every detail as if she was as knowledgable as any councilman. He knew that what she had just seen disturbed her innocent mind and as her father, his wished to shield her from all that accompanied being an adult.  
‘Why Edward, Bess is far too young to understand’, her mother objected sweetly to her Father.  
Bess was scared of asking but admitted to herself that she was curious.  
‘You’re right, my dear, all you need to know is that your mother and I love each other and you will have a brother soon”, he said the last part proudly. This answer left her content and they did not discuss it anymore as she began with questions about her brother. Bess did want a brother for she only had two sisters, Mary and Cecily to play with and her parents did seem thrilled about having a son, or an ‘heir’ as they called it.  
‘A brother, like Thomas and Richard?’, she asked innocently.  
‘Yes, sweetheart’, her mother replied, ‘though younger than you of course’.  
‘What are we going to call him?’ Bess asked.  
‘Edward’, her father replied confidently, ‘I have decided on it for years’.  
‘The Prince of Wales’, her mother then added, ‘and King Edward the fifth’.  
King Edward then leaned down to kiss her mother on the mouth.  
‘Now, go and make sure Mary and Cecily are ready for breakfast, my princess, and we will meet you down at the dining hall’.  
With this, Princess Elizabeth edged off the bed and ran out the room before closing the door, but not before she had seen her father pull her mother down into the same position underneath him and say ‘Come here, sweetheart’. Outside, Bess heard her mother’s sighs of pleasure come from inside the room.  
After they had achieved a most satisfying climax, Elizabeth Woodville took her husband’s handsome face between her hands and said, ‘How long was she there? Did you think she saw all of it?’  
‘Let’s be thankful that we weren't in a different position’, he said mischievously and in response Elizabeth dived under the sheets with a squeal.


	3. When the Princesses met the Duchess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three York princesses pay a visit to the austere Duchess Cecily. Are they able to win her over with their charm?  
> Edward IV makes an appearance in the Duchess’ story and at the end when he comes to pick them up.

Baynard Castle

An adorable trio of little princesses. Edward’s daughters were so very close together in age for Elizabeth had been pregnant very closely after each birth. It was only as they skipped closer with their nurse-maids at their heels, struggling to keep up with the vivacious energy that Cecily could observe her granddaughters. None were like the other yet they each had their own charm. Even the texture of their hair was different; Bess was wavy with soft curls, Mary was silky smooth and straight whilst Cecily was crimped. In eye colour; Bess was vivid blue like Edward’s, Mary was light green whilst Cecily had blue-grey eyes. Bess, the obvious leader of group looked up at her in friendliness, a smile forming on her face, not shy like she would have expected any other child of the same age. 

As soon as they were released, Bess, too easily bored of adult attention, bounded off to explore the castle’s ground hand-in-hand with Mary, leaving the Duchess with only little Cecily, whom Edward and his wife had named after her. Too young to do any wandering herself, Cecily wriggled in the arms of her nurse, dribbling onto her bib. Duchess Cecily went up to the toddler and carefully wiped the dribble from her jaw.  
'Give her to me,' she commanded the nurse who instantly handed the toddler, glad to be relieved of her duty.  
‘There, there’, the Duchess of York soothed, depositing the child onto her lap. It was in that moment when Princess Cecily turned to look at her grandmother with wide, familiar eyes. It startled Cecily how much her granddaughter’s eyes were like those of Edmund and Richard, deep and haunting. How strange it was that although this child was half Rivers, she could see remnants of her husband, Richard Plantagenet in the crinkled forehead …  
"You are so beautiful" the older Cecily murmured, stroking the child's baby fat-filled cheeks. Like her two older sisters, the young Cecily had the chubby cheeks that any adult would find hard to resist squeezing. The child she saw gave nothing, blinking before she cooed lightly, making a grab for her grandmother’s necklace before putting it into her mouth. But the Duchess of York was faster and had managed to stop her, gently dislodging it from the infant’s hand. The elder Cecily couldn't help smiling when she realised the girl was teething. She had raised enough children of her own to realise the signs- the non-stop dribbling and sucking motions… but that was years ago. She could not say a word as she saw Edmund once more in the place of this girl sitting on her lap. A tension festered in her chest, one snapped by the sound of slippers on the rushes. 

Bess had come back babbling about her adventures, chattering incessantly about her achievements to a stray servant, achievements which involved chasing a bunny to its den where she had discovered the entire herd to whoever was listening whilst Mary had picked flowers and bounded them up in ribbon; one bunch was for Cecily herself. Bess, although named after her mother, Elizabeth, reminded Cecily of her son Edward as a child; active, exuberant and charming and cocky. Duchess Cecily had heard that Mary had the Woodville’s prettiness and loveliness.

*** 

Several hours had passed, and the duchess had learned of her advancing years before her mind was ready. Where she did so freely recall the times when she could with ease entertain her children, now she had grown tired. Tired long before the girls had found their eyes heavy. It had not stopped the duchess dismissing them to the chambers which had once been her boys. Their father's and uncles the days they had visited court with their father...  
With such memories so poignant, Duchess Cecily went to check on her granddaughters.  
Bess and Mary huddled close together whispering about something with the blanket pulled up to their necks, as though none would know them awake whereas Cecily was lying upside down on the huge bed with her harms and legs spread out like a starfish. There was a wet circle stain on the bed sheets marking the spot she had dribbled on. This meant that she would have to instruct the servants to replace the sheets the next morning.  
The Duchess of York had enough experience raising seven children to adulthood to not be fooled by the pretence of sleeping as these girls were doing now. In fact, she had heard giggling and singing tunes as she was walking down the hall. The image oddly reminded the Duchess of her own daughters, Anne, Elizabeth and Margaret. How fast time went by …. they were grown women now with husbands and households of their own. Eliza and Anne with children... Children Cecily seldom got to see. Children Cecily could not complain for not seeing... how cruel fortune could be to women... how cruel it may yet be to these girls. That thought, that reality was the reason she did not scold them.  
‘Why are you not yet asleep, my dears?’  
‘Because’, the two older girls answered in unison, their heads coming up from under their blankets, forgetting their initial pretence at sleeping.  
‘Because what?’ the Duchess asked.  
‘Because we’re just not sleepy… I don’t know why’, Mary answered.  
‘Tell us a story, Grandma Cecily’, Bess demanded. Normally if this had been any other child the proud Duchess would have scolded her but it seemed that these royal princesses were use to being spoilt by all the adults.  
'We promise not to tell anybody’, Mary added.  
She sighed, making a conscious choice to give in and asked, ‘What story would you like to hear, my dears?’  
Bess, the speaker, spoke for all three girls confidently, ‘Grandma Jacquetta always tells us stories about her ancestral legend and we like hearing the ones about Mama when she was a little girl. Grandma Jacquetta, she says she knew papa when he was so small." Bess emphasised the words. 

Mary interrupted "Course! I have always not believed papa was ever small! He is so tall!”

“All adults were once children, Mary. So even if it is hard to believe, your Papa was once a little boy, though he was tall and strong for his age”. 

Bess continued. "Anyway, Grandma Jacquetta says she cannot tell us about him, she says it is because she did not know him well enough but I do not believe that. I know it is because papa does not want people to talk about it. Which made me think he must have done something naughty!“ Bess said the last part with a ridiculous look on her face as if she couldn’t comprehend what her Papa had done and the Duchess couldn't restrain a smile.  
"As you are his mother, and he cannot shout at you, I believe that it is only fitting that you should tell us a story about Papa’, she rationalised.  
Mary nodded in agreement and Cecily gave out an unintelligible ‘Papa’.  
It seemed like her granddaughters would not let her leave until they had got their story so she sat down on the edge of their bed. Recognising someone familiar, baby Cecily had crawled over to snuggle her head on her grandmother’s lap.  
Edward. What was there to say about Edward, her golden eldest son?  
‘Your Papa was a troublemaker ever since he was a boy’, she began. ‘His younger brother, Edmund and Edward were close in age and inseparable, like you and Mary. He would break the rules, like no other boy I knew, and I will tell you that there were many times my husband, your grandfather that is, thought he purposely did it to annoy the adults’, the Duchess reminisced. 'Perhaps he did, but he’s always had a generous heart with the sense of honour his father had engrained in him. Sometimes wicked.' Cecily said the last part while leaning in closer to them, as if it was a secret.  
‘Once when he was only eleven years of age, Ned took it upon himself to capture a pet falcon for his younger siblings. He spent the whole day trying to catch it then weeks after taming it. Only when he had managed to tame the falcon did it die days later from being attacked quite carelessly by a hound. But it’s something that the younger ones would never forget’.  
Her three granddaughters were listening in wide-eyed silence. It seemed like she had wholeheartedly captured their attention.  
"I cannot say your father was always noble, but he was always brave." The Duchess spoke, cut off by Bess.  
"I thought you said he was a troublemaker?"  
"And if you wish me to tell you, then stop interrupting." The Duchess scolded her good-naturedly. "Once, when your father must have been thirteen, he had written to his father, a note to say he did not much like his classmates. Your grandpapa? He found it to be good practice, for they would find men they did not much like. Your papa did not like his response, I will say. He decided to be a problem solver. When the boys chose to bully your father in his classroom? If I recall, it was reported to me myself that your papa had stolen eggs from the kitchens, only to crack them on the boys floors in the middle of the night. No bones were broken, your papa did not see the humour when it was him being caned." She added as the girls laughed.  
"Eggs? Papa used eggs?" Bess giggled, hiccuping between breaths.  
"Mama said he would not know what an egg was unless it was cooked!" Mary added.  
"Well, your papa is more savvy than perhaps he is given credit for, and smart enough too to know he should not have, yet witty enough to see its humour." The duchess shrugged. Her son might have many flaws that had irritated her immensely, like his lack of religious observance and tendency to submit to sins of the flesh, but he had always been intelligent beyond his years.  
‘Now go to sleep, my darlings, a new day awaits tomorrow’, she commanded them.  
She did not leave until they slept. How precious children were, how they had the power to climb their way into your heart without you knowing. She gazed down at her granddaughters who were sighing gently as they slept, the candlelight casting a golden sheen on their cherubic faces. Now that she thought about it, it was hard to imagine her son Edward as a little boy twenty or so years ago having children of his own one day. But yet it here they were. Time did past by so fast.  
She left quietly, closing the door behind her. 

***  
The next morning Cecily stepped out to sounds of giggling and girlish squeals as her granddaughters were being bathed by their nurse-maids. It had been a long time since she had raised children and was reminded of the innocence and joy of a childish presence. She had to admit reluctantly that her hatred of Elizabeth Woodville had ebbed the past day, though nothing could change her mind from the belief that their marriage was disastrously ill-suited. But at least some good had come out of it. Their children were gorgeous, that was undeniable.  
After a noisy, messy breakfast of oatmeal, Mary played with the dolls she had brought with her, Cecily chewed on a wooden spoon whereas Bess had run off chasing the hound around the room, in her attempt to use the animal as a horse, the same way Edward always had, in mimic of his father.  
Her pursuit had taken her from the chamber, away from the fire and into the halls. The halls from which she returned squealing with delight. The Duchess knew she should not be surprised by the emerging figure of her son throwing the girl into the air. "Hello Princess" he muttered before he so much as looked to his mother. "Ma mere." He spoke quietly, putting the girl on the floor as he approached her, where he knelt for her blessing.  
‘It looks like the girls won you over’, Edward, said smartly. 'Will had me place bets.' His mother rolled his eyes, shaking her head, she knew who had instigated the bet. Waited however for him to elaborate. 'He bet a silver angel on the fact it would take them two hours.' 

'How long did you bet?' 

'Me?' He smirked, winking. 'I bet they would not break you. But that they would win your heart in minutes.'  
‘They are my grandchildren, Edward’, she said almost reproachingly. Nor could she blame him for doting on his brood of three daughters; they were each lovely in their own unique way with all of Elizabeth Woodville’s prettiness but none of her coldness for their personalities resembled Edward’s openness.  
‘Your father would have adored them’.  
Her son looked back at her with clear blue eyes that betrayed nothing. Edward could tell she meant every word she said and noted that this was an important turning point in their relationship; the first time the austere Duchess of York had acknowledged his and Elizabeth’s children as her granddaughters. Unlike his wife’s abundant Woodville family who accepted the royal princesses with open arms, his own side, the Nevilles and Plantagenets had been somewhat more reluctant. He did not resent his wife’s family’s influence but would have liked his own kin to play more than a passive role in raising the royal children.  
Edward grinned then admitted, ‘Despite my longing for an heir, my daughters can warm any father’s heart’.  
As if on cue, Bess ran up to him and hugged his leg.  
‘Look Papa, I just taught Rascal how to shake hands!’  
‘You named him Rascal?’ he inquired, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "You know, I see the irony." Cecily knew where this would go before he continued. "I pleaded with your mother to call you that, Princess Rascal."  
‘Don’t be silly, every dog needs a nam- Papa!’ Bess retorted, sticking her tongue out as she fully understood her father's words, and the adults both laughed together.  
‘They are angels’, Cecily agreed, slapping her son's arm as he retaliated with a stuck out tongue.  
‘I will tell Lisbet you said that ma mere, she will be pleased to know’, Edward said, ‘Of which, she is large with another child again and there are some days when she complains about our daughters’ liveliness, so she would not call them angels I think.'  
"And what is your view?"  
"My view? It's that no matter how angelic? I would have a boy among the ranks. One I could show how to joust and teach him battlefield strategies" Cecily smiled at his eye roll.  
"Now Bess, show me how Rascal can shake my hand, then bid your Grandma of York goodbye, girls we return to Westminster."  
‘Why must we leave so soon?’ Mary protested, a frown forming on her face but they all stepped forward to do as he had instructed.  
Bess, exuberant like her father dashed to kiss her grandmother and threw in a hug as well while Mary sweetly kissed her on both cheeks and Cecily’s kiss was ill-aimed and slightly sloppy.  
‘Mama’s belly is big and Papa says this time it will be a brother’, Bess said to her, ‘We are all very excited for Mama says we can play with him and we can take take him to visit you."  
‘Bess has a habit of inviting herself’, Edward explained with good humour, looking fondly down at his daughter. Bess talked incessantly and the Duchess she could tell how much his daughters admired Edward.  
She was truly sorry to see them go, wishing like every doting grandmother more time to spend with her grandchildren. Any onlooker would have been surprised to see the proud Duchess Cecily reaching into her pocket for her handkerchief when she noticed that the toddler Cecily had turned around to look back at her as she was carried away in the arms of her nurse-maid.


End file.
